


The Attic

by ClaireMorgan



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, Lesbian Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 16:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17410508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaireMorgan/pseuds/ClaireMorgan
Summary: A look into Lou and Debbie's relationship, from their childhood friendship to the beginning of a new type of bond.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iris_belivet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iris_belivet/gifts).



> I wrote the first part listening to Anyone else but you by Michael Cera and Ellen Page for the Juno Original Motion Picture Soundtrack and the second with we fell in love in october by girl in red, and suggest listening to it while you read. Hope you enjoy :)

Point Pleasant Beach, New Jersey, 1980 

 

Dust floated in the air. It was summer, the air was thick and warm; our foreheads were damp and our hair sticked to the back of our necks. We were sitting in that small, almost spooky attic, which stood above an empty house. We had found it a year ago, in our usual wanderings along the shores that annoyed our parents so much. Now, we had arrived the very morning, but came to this place as soon as we could. Those vacations would be even better than the previous ones, I was sure. 

Lou was looking at the sky through the dormer window; the dime light gave a special atmosphere to the room. Her blond hair seemed like the most beautiful gold jewels and her skin like vanilla ice cream. I remember thinking that. She looked at me and smiled. An irresistible mischievous glint in her eyes; I would have done anything she asked me for, at that very second. 

\- Let’s go play in the forest. 

She took my hand and stood up. We tumbled down the ladder, ran to the door, and up the street to the sparse woods. Lou was faster, she ran in front of me and her dress floated in the wind; she hated those, that her mom made her wear to take millions of pictures of us. But I knew as soon as tomorrow Lou would be wearing her usual overalls and baseball t-shirt. After what seemed like an eternity we reached our glade; a small, charming spot, glowing in the sunlight but hidden in the dept of the forest. Lou was already sitting in the middle of it, waiting for me. When I sat next to her we started digging with our nails into the soft dirt; pretty soon we found the old plastic bag we had left there the year before. My favourite book, Lou’s soccer ball, our friendship bracelets. Its content was like a mirror of our relationship; we were fundamentally different, though always stuck with one another, and unable to live apart. But it did not keep our attention for very long. 

\- I have something to show you… 

My hand dived in my pocket and got out a small packet. 

\- Bengal lights. I found them in my mother’s birthday drawer. 

“Don’t play with fire”, our parents’ voices, and their familiar warnings echoed in our heads. But we were made for this; we always had to be on the edge. We were, and are still, living for the thrill. At the time, we only had some vague understanding of this; but we already felt that those lives of tranquility were not made for us. I had to light up three before the first spark finally broke the peacefulness of our lair, but when it bursted into flames we looked at it with stars in our eyes. I held it between our two faces; far enough not to burn our noses, but still closer than most people would. Lou looked up to me when it was about to quench. 

\- Make a wish. 

I was trying to find something, anything, to wish for before the last spark, when Lou interrupted my thoughts. 

\- I wish that we’ll always be together. Deb and Lou, Lou and Deb. 


	2. Chapter 2

Point Pleasant Beach, New Jersey, 1988

The road felt incredibly bumpy in that small, old and almost empty bus. We were sitting in the last row, Lou’s head rested on my shoulder. She had fell asleep a while ago; I had not even tried to, knowing I couldn’t. Rain was pouring hard outside; it had been like that for hours, but the calming sound made me feel a little better. Even with this curtain of water blocking the view, I sensed that we were close to our destination. Finally we were there, we had been planning this for weeks now. We did it, I thought. A few clothes thrown in a backpack, Lou’s camera, a couple of books for me. Some money; half of it was our savings, the rest we had stolen to our parents and siblings. I smiled. I wanted to do this for so long; get the fuck out of there, where I sometimes felt like such an outsider even if I obviously fitted perfectly into that crazy family. My thoughts were interrupted when the bus stopped, and I felt Lou waking up with a jolt. 

\- Are we there already?  
\- Yeah, come on, we have to get out. 

She stumbled all the way to the exit, and noticed the weather only when we got out. 

\- Shit, that’s a lot of rain!

I turned to a man who was getting out of the bus. 

\- Sorry, you know what time it is, sir?  
\- Don’t know, 1 AM, maybe later? I ain’t a clock, girl!

I turned to Lou. I catched a glimpse of her rolling her eyes and sticking out her tongue. She took my hand. 

\- Fuck you, old man!

She started running and I followed her, laughing my guts out. After a few blocks I knew where we were going; our secret hide-out, all the motels would be closed anyway. When we arrived, we saw that the house was no longer abandoned.

\- Damn, there’s someone in there. 

It had been renovated and the porch light was on. I whispered in her ear. 

\- The tree, in the backyard.

Not five minutes and we were inside; we pushed the familiar dormer, luckily the same one, and entered the attic, our attic as we call it, with careful steps. We were now both sitting in the middle of it, as always. She was staring at the floor, water was dripping on it from her damped hair. Mine were the same. We had drank a whole bottle of red wine during the bus trip, hidden in a paper bag like some creepy old men. Not even cheap one, I had stolen it from my father’s personal stock. Strangely, it was right at that moment that I felt it kick in. 

She looked at me. I think she was a bit drunk too, even though today she refuses to admit it. She came closer; forehead to forehead like we used to do. But it felt different. My eyes were closed, but after a few seconds, I opened them and looked straight in hers. They had been open the whole time, staring at me; I knew it now. At that moment I saw her lips coming apart, and I felt mine doing the same, and I remembered how this had happened before; once, some years ago, late one Saturday night in my basement. I can’t recall exactly how, who did the first step and what was going through my mind at this moment, but at one point I know she was kissing me, and I was kissing her back. She gently pushed me on the floor; she was on top of me, her hands under my t-shirt, her mouth wandering around in my neck. I gripped her hips and pulled her closer, searching for her lips. I needed to feel them on mine again. I found them and we started kissing again; we were rolling on the floor, giggling. I was under her once more. 

\- We can’t make too much noise, there’s someone down there. 

She was whispering in between small laughs. 

\- I don’t care. 

Our mouths not apart for more than a few seconds, we removed our clothes one by one, until we were laying in our underwear. I felt the hardness of the wooden floor against my back. Lou still above me, I took her face in my hands and looked at her in the eyes. 

\- Fuck me. 

I had spoken out loud, and she seemed surprised, but I did not look away, or took my words back. 

I did not sleep that night; and neither did Lou, until early in the morning. I watched the sun going up at the window, smoking stolen cigarettes; she was asleep, lying on a pile of clothes. A few hours later, I was reading a book and heard a soft sound in my back. I looked above my shoulder and it was her, getting out her mom’s polaroid camera, that she had stolen the day before, to take a picture of me. 

\- What are you doing?

She laughed and did not answer; and I let her take as many pictures she wanted. I felt good, and complete at that moment, a small, naughty smile growing on my lips. I knew we would have a great time before going back to our boring, day-to-day life; we would go to the beach, light a fire and drink, take more pictures and kiss and sleep on the sand, we would go back to the forest of her childhood years and fuck in our own, good old hiding place; steal some more wine and sip it in the streets, sing, dance and disturb the whole town, her hand in mine; we would steal a motorcycle like the one Lou had wanted for so long, drive too fast on the desert roads; rent a cheap hotel room; wander around the city and in a moment of drunkenness write on a wall a message of love for the other, make a promise that we would go back to it like a pilgrim to his shrine. I felt like this should have happened a long time ago; it was the only thing missing, and now that I tasted it I just wanted more. More of her, more of us, more of this luscious energy that took over my whole self. I wanted more, but of her only; it was still the same, Lou and Deb, Deb and Lou. Forever, I remember thinking. I was right.


End file.
